The Girl with Hot Knives
by Lysandr
Summary: Filia stars in her own fairy tale of...well...carnage. AU


Fairytales are sweet like dime-store candy. No. That's a lie. They are made of bloody sinews, cruelty, and grotesque romance. Yes, that has the right sound. This is a tale involving our favorite sexually repressed being of light and lasers, Filia. Here we find her in the middle of this horrific tale. Hopefully, she will make it out all right in the end. Her characterization in this first scene is not in line with the series' sketch, but don't worry readers! Her anger and frustration and snarky comebacks will bulldoze to the foreground very soon. In fairytales, there are damsels in distress. She must fit into that mold in the beginning to break it. Aha, I've given too much information and needless dialogue, haven't I? Sorries. – **L.**

**The Girl with Hot Knives**

_Dust is dancing in this space._

A figure of flesh and silk pads about this study, open book in gloved hand.

He settles into a large, cushy armchair.

A steaming teacup accompanies him and his reading.

Well now isn't that quaint?

Does it matter that the small hide-bound book is entitled " Kill Log: Volume 3"?

He adds a mark to his last tally on the page.

Here lie demons.

Chapter One. The Damsel.

The day broke with a scream. At once, the occupants of the house were awake and alert. Three pairs of feet pounded the hallways, descended the stairs, and made their way quickly to the drawing room. The door was thrown open, rattling the pottery lining the walls.

The group was faced with a queer scene. A young man of about sixteen years of age with golden curls was holding a badger in this room. He was cornering a cowering girl, the source of the scream.

"Get it away! Get it away!" said the girl.

"Oh, it likes you!" said the young man.

The group whom had just arrived all sighed. There was a shuffling.

"Angelo," said the leader of the group, a tall man with graying hair, "put that thing down. Stop scaring your poor sister."

Angelo looked to his father, as well as to his brothers flanking the entryway, and shrugged. He put the badger down upon the windowsill, and the sad little creature scurried about the curtains and made a quick exit.

"I wasn't going to do anything to her," said Angelo. His brothers snickered. One whispered under his breath, " You ought to."

The father of this household shook his heavy head and, without another word, exited the scene to get some much-needed rest.

Angelo immediately turned upon the girl.

"You've gotten me into trouble, you witch."

The girl stared defiantly back.

"That thing could have bitten me," said the girl.

"That was the point," said Angelo.

The brothers hanging about the entryway shuffled their feet again.

"Angelo, she's not worth your attention," said the brother on the left.

"Yeah," said the brother on the right, " it's not like she's our real sister."

Angelo gave the girl an appraising look. The girl felt a tingle go up her spine, but she did not move. He stepped forward and pressed his forehead to hers. His golden eyes shined with something the girl had seen many times before, but she had yet to place exactly what that glimmer meant. He grinned a toothy grin.

"No," said Angelo, " certainly not."

_Demon_, thought the girl.

"Witch," said Angelo.

"Witch," said the brothers.

"Witch," said Angelo

"Witch!" said the brothers.

"Shut up, you demons!" said the girl as she pushed Angelo away from her with a strength inconceivable in such a lithe figure. The young man was thrown straight across the room and crashed into a collection of porcelain. A deep dent was imprinted into the wall. The brothers' eyes widened. Angelo, dizzy and blushing furiously, picked himself up. His hands flew to his face and were greeted with a small trickle of thick liquid by his lips: blood.

"You've done it now," said the brother on the left.

Angelo's eyes, wide and gold, turned into slits, and the girl immediately felt the air thicken. At once he was upon her. He roughly grabbed her arm, so much so that the girl thought it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He seethed and with his other hand, grabbed her long, golden hair.

"Everyone here hates you, Filia," he said, and then he pulled.

Filia screamed as the tendrils fell to the ground. Angelo slapped her. The brothers watched, gleeful.

"Stop it!" Filia pleaded.

Angelo did not stop. Something had hardened in his heart. He pushed her to the writing desk. He leaned over her trembling body. Filia felt as if she were going to pass out. A bitter, metallic taste filled her mouth. It was the adrenaline. Angelo squeezed her arm harder, causing the snow-white skin to turn violet. He descended upon her shoulder, and sunk his teeth into the flesh. Filia screamed again, hot tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. He grabbed another handful of hair, and entwined his fingers deep into the nape. He brought her cheek to his, and in her ear, he said, "Do not test me."

Filia hiccupped a sob. Angelo untwined his fingers from his prisoner, and stepped away.

"Remind me to never piss you off, Angelo, " said the brother on the left, shaking his head with a small smile.

"We should get to school. We're late," said the brother on the right.

"Edmund, Edward…" Filia sobbed.

The two brothers sighed, unhappy that the fun had ended, and walked out of the room.

Angelo's golden eyes watched as Filia slid to the ground in a pile of pink and gold and tears. A sick satisfaction bubbled in his heart, and with one last gesture, he threw Filia his handkerchief and exited the room.

Filia Ul Copt was the daughter of who-knows-who. She was without title and she was without property. If she were not pretty, her life would be very different. Certainly, she would still be stuck in Madam Cross' Orphanage if it were not for her delicate features and flaxen hair. The rich pride themselves on good breeding, and so when in want of an adopted child, they look for the child that would most inconspicuously and attractively slide into their family portrait.

Father Ul Copt lost his wife to complications from Angelo's birth. A man that prides himself on his rigid reason, he decided that a woman's presence was essential in the home, and so took it upon himself to adopt a daughter. He adopted Filia when Angelo was six.

Filia was a child of endless energy and enjoyable wit, and she immediately tumbled into Father Ul Copt's heart. Angelo and his brothers, Edmund and Edward, did not receive half the praises that lovely Filia accepted. At age eight, Angelo cut off the head of Filia's favorite doll. Filia, after discovering the tragedy, sobbed into her pillow and refused to leave her room. This was the beginning of The Game. The Game was Angelo's creation. The Game simply entailed this: make Filia cry. Edmund and Edward relished in strategizing for the Game in the beginning, but within a few years, they stopped playing. Angelo, thoroughly enthralled with his creation, could not understand why. His brothers told him, "We're too old for this, Angelo. Don't you think we should stop?" Angelo never stopped.

…a pause. A sob. A stifle.

Filia felt around her feet. She picked up the white handkerchief and, through drying tears, looked at it.

"I," she started. She stopped. She stopped to feel her heart beginning to return to it's steady beat. Beatbeatbeatbeatbeatbeat beat beat beat beat beat… Once again, she studied the handkerchief.

It was white and made from very expensive material. Stitched onto its top corner was a red rose. Underneath this stitching was an elaborately decorated phrase. The words were so ornately scripted that Filia brought the handkerchief close to her blue eyes to read it.

The thread was gold, she sighed. How ostentatious.

The phrase was as such: _Blood spilt begets Worth._

"Charming," said Filia dryly. She laughed softly at her joke. "Alright, no use crying in a heap, Filia."

Birds outside the window chirped merrily as the sun crept its rays into the nooks of the room. Filia could feel the warm rays on her shoulders, and the gentle scent of lavender from the garden tickle her nose. She threw the offending handkerchief away, rubbed her hands over her eyes to dry the wetness still clinging to her cheeks, and got up. Filia stood up and refused to cry anymore. That was enough for today, she thought to herself.

Filia did not know what time it was when the bells chimed. She did, however, curse the gods for awakening her from her sleep. She lay motionless in her giant bed, praying that a servant would answer the door. A minute passed. Only the sound of rain filled her room. She lazily looked to her window. Yes, there was a summer storm tonight. Another minute passed, and Filia could feel her eyes beginning to droop.

The bells chimed again.

Filia jerked herself out of bed with a heavy sigh and threw on a robe. She slipped her feet into some slippers, and padded her way to the dark entry hall. No one was awake, she observed. Tightening her robe, she readied herself for the storm that would greet her. She opened the front door. There was only darkness.

"Hello?" said Filia to nothing at all.

The clouds cracked their cheeks, and the wind rushed through the house like a flood. Filia shivered and braced herself against the chill. Peering into that deep, rainy night, she was warranted no answer.

"Could life get anymore bothersome?" said Filia to herself. To the night, she repeated, louder, "Hello?"

"Hullo," said a voice from behind her.

Filia turned around quicker than a shot. A tall, thin, and cloaked man greeted her with a jovial wave.

"Who are you?" said Filia carefully.

The man pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. He tapped his staff three times on the marble floor, and then answered, "Someone in need of some temporary shelter from this storm."

Filia knitted her brow.

"That wasn't an answer," said Filia.

"Well, it was a stupid question," said the man.

Filia blushed furiously.

"You're in my home! You came in all stealthily! That warrants a name," said Filia in a huff.

"You don't leave this place," observed the man, "so it is of no consequence if you know my name or not because you wouldn't know of anyone or anything outside of your self." He gave her a pleasant smile.

It infuriated her to no end.

"Get out!" she yelled.

The man looked at her as if she had just told a joke.

"You seem to be rather prickly tonight. Do you treat all of your houseguests like this?" he asked.

"You are no houseguest of mine," said Filia. She could feel her nerve snap.

"Filia," said Father Ul Copt.

Filia turned to the entryway staircase. She could see Edmund and Edward standing on the top steps. They were whispering to each other undoubtedly about the new arrival. Angelo was by his father's side. Filia could not place the look on his face. He was measuring the stranger up, guessed Filia. Father Ul Copt beheld an expression Filia knew very well. She had done wrong, apparently. What a ridiculous notion, she thought to herself. He is a stranger!

"Please excuse my daughter, traveler," said Father Ul Copt as he descended the staircase, "You are most welcome to stay the night here."

The stranger nodded. Filia could not help but feel that he was watching her from the corner of his eye.

"Filia," said Father Ul Copt, "is it not past your bedtime?"

She reddened with embarrassment. She could hear Angelo laughing softly.

"Father," she started. The look she received from him had stopped her. "Goodnight," she surrendered. As she ascended the stairs, she felt her foot catch. She caught herself from falling, but from the sounds of laughter, she knew that Angelo had tripped her. Refusing to acknowledge her brothers, she finished her ascent, and disappeared into the safety of her room.

The man observed this scene quietly.

Father Ul Copt called for a servant to fix his houseguest a room to stay the night in. The man thanked him graciously, and proceeded to follow the servant to his new quarters. They ascended the staircase, and just as the man passed Angelo, there was an exchange of glances. Angelo felt an odd stirring when he looked into those violet eyes. But the moment was gone, and the new houseguest had walked on.

Father Ul Copt bid everyone goodnight. The house fell into slumber not soon after.


End file.
